Thursday, January 29, 2015

Some Days

   Some workdays are just not fun. They start out fine. But then somewhere in the course of the waking hours things start to run pell-mell and the day starts slipping through your fingers and then by the end of it you are grasping at sand and your baby falls asleep in the back seat after you pick him up because of no nap.  And tiredness after the swimming lessons that someone else got to take him to. You carry him inside, take off his shoes, kiss him and whisper prayers in his ear as you tuck his half limp, sleepy little body into bed. And worry that he will be hungry in the night because he was so tired that he went to sleep without supper. 

  I have so, so, SO much to be thankful for. But some days I just have to be sad for a few minutes. I love my job. It could not be better. I love my patients. I love the people I work with. But days that I have so little time with my babies are hard.

   Just being real. Hope that's ok with yall. 

    Tomorrow will be a better day. Im thankful that His mercies are new every morning.  

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

What Is Your Time Worth?

  I got a ticket a couple weeks ago. Expired tag. I tried to pull the whole "I just had a baby and moved all at the same time" on the police officers, but they weren't having it. I have never been one of those girls who could cry their way out of a speeding ticket. Maybe I don't look helpless enough, I don't know. I had a friend in college who got stopped close to 10 times and she put the sad teary eyed quivering bottom lip look on the guy, and he fell for it every. time. 

No such luck for this girl. 

So now I've got a $240 ticket to deal with. I called the municipal court yesterday and asked the girl what I needed to do. She started talking about my court date and pleading guilty vs not guilty, and that if I pled not guilty I would be assigned a trial date. I fell out laughing and told her I was definitely guilty--but had just been holding out hope that maybe there was a rule that if you got your tag renewed asap they would waive your ticket fee. 

Again, no such luck. (Thought they did reduce it by 50 bucks!) However I do know that on occasion if you take the time to appear on your court date and show your documentation the judge will waive the ticket. 

So I am faced with a choice--spend the afternoon dealing with the Jackson court system, or fork over the money and stay at my office working to pay for it. In my business, I know what an hour is worth. I know what 30 minutes is worth. I can do the math and figure out what kind of efficiency I need to have to pay my supply bill and pay my employees so they can provide for their families. And to pay myself. Taylor pokes fun at me for the way my brain works--it is an efficiency calculating machine. When I approach a red light, my natural response is to begin calculating the various possible routes ahead to my destination, and which will be fastest, based on whether I'm able to make the light or will have to sit and wait. Shaving off 30 seconds of travel time is a major victory in my brain. 

I know. I live in crazytown. It's just the way I'm wired. 

But sometimes life is not like this. My precious two year old does not understand this need for efficiency. He toddles around naming ladybugs and exclaiming his excitement over tiny, found toy trucks that had been thought lost forever. He does not, at least at this point in his life, share my affinity for efficiency. (Though I'm secretly hoping he or Amos will develop it by young adulthood so I can have a buddy!) He may be rejoicing over those tiny things at the same time we are running 20 minutes late and trying to get out the door. And then when we walk outside, he will literally stop to smell the flowers.

  My infant also does not understand my need for efficiency. I was holding him and vacuuming like a madwoman this afternoon when he started fussing, acting like he was hungry. I had been holding him, facing out, as I went around the house tidying up because we had a guest coming over for dinner. So I stopped and sat down to nurse him. He took one sip and then broke away, looked at me, and giggled. (A four month old's giggles are the most wonderful things in the world, in case you were not aware.) He was not hungry at all.  He just wanted me. Not a clean, perfect house. Not a punctual schedule. Just me. 

It was a lovely reminder. A reminder that though I may can put a dollar amount on the value of my time in some cases, in others that time is priceless.